SUNDAY -- Credentialing has been open only about an hour, and already the lines are beginning to back up in the plaza ballroom level of the Sheraton Denver. It's not the wait to secure convention passes that's causing anxiety among the assembled press, however. Rather, it's the diminishing mountain of free convention tote bags. Unlikely as it seems, there is worry that they will all somehow be gone before they can be claimed.

They are fine bags, to be sure -- blue canvas with the Democratic National Convention Committee logo and Coca "Live Positively" Cola emblazoned on one side, and AT&T on the other. They are the kind of bag any journalist would be proud to carry. And they are stuffed to the gills with corporate-logo branded merchandise: Post-it notes. Wild flower seed-impregnated paper. Pens (including a very fine "recycled materials" pen from Anadarko Petroleum Corporation). A bottle of Joint Juice, a vitamin drink enhanced with a discredited supplement. Breath mints. Hand sanitizers. And from Protecting America.org, a checkbook-sized FM radio, a marvel of engineering in cardboard with earbuds. "Please keep this FM radio in your home disaster kit," begs the yellow writing on the back, "so that you can be kept abreast of developments if catastrophe strikes."

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

The bag secured, there is work to be done. There's free lunch at Zaidy's Deli, if you want to sit through a briefing with the SEIU's president and treasurer. At the Brown Palace Hotel, TV heavyweights like Tom Brokaw and Chris Wallace gather in memory of Tim Russert for a brunch discussion of election coverage.

There is also lunch at the Denver Press Club, but there are very few takers, almost none of them members of the media. The discussion is sponsored by Coloradoans for Voting Integrity and Concentric Media.

Don Siegelman was a governor on the rise when, on election night 2002, "I went to bed and we had won," he recalls. "After we went to bed...a light went on in the basement of the Courthouse and a new, unauthorized recount had taken place." Siegelman -- a Democrat who's the only person to have been elected to all four of Alabama's highest offices -- had now lost by the smallest margin in Alabama history. After an attempt to secure a supervised recount failed, Siegelman vowed to "walk away and return to fight another day." But, as Siegelman began a 2006 bid for governor, he found himself the target of a Justice Department investigation. A Republican lawyer who worked on his opponent's campaign has submitted a sworn statement stating that the campaign had been reassured that Karl Rove was making sure that the Justice would "take care" of Siegelman. Siegelman had advocated the creation of an education lottery, something against the interests of Jack Abramoff's Indian casino clients. Ultimately convicted of trading political favors for campaign donations, Siegelman served nine months in a federal prison before being released pending appeal.

"I'm from Alabama and I know something about how votes are suppressed," he says. "My sole purpose here is to see that Karl Rove does not work as an IT expert."

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

Standing at the top of the stairs, John Nichols, who had earlier addressed the group, talked about the turnout from his colleagues. "It's ridiculous and embarrassing. You have 17,000 journalists in town and you can't draw a crowd," says Nichols.

Tough choices. Still time to score a ticket for the 2 p.m. taping of the Daily Show? Or opt for more food at the Italian American Leadership Council Party at the Three Sons Italian Restaurant. At the Denver Art Museum, the "Rock Stars of Education Reform" have gathered for an afternoon discussion. In a small museum alcove, about 30 people have perched on black stacking chairs. Education Reform, Al Sharpton says, "has been miscast in a partisan way.

"One of the things I think has been very shrewd of the Right was in the '70s -- they were able to take the Bible and flag from the civil rights movement," he says. And then he fires a shot across the bow. "The conditions of 50 years ago just don't work no more. The unions haven't always been on the right side anymore." In the hall outside, a woman with brightly dyed red hair and a large "Friend of the New York Delegation" speaks agitatedly into a cell phone. She has a legal pad full of notes, and a pack of cigarettes close at hand.

The sun's getting low in the sky and, at the Fillmore Auditorium, the Friends of New Orleans are offering seafood and Randy Newman. At Mezecal, the Creative Coalition has gathered Susan Sarandon, Spike Lee, and Quentin Tarantino to honor Calvin Smyre, president of the National Black Caucus of State Legislators. And in the bowels of the Colorado Convention Center, Rep. John Conyers has just finished regaling about 700 people with tales from his storied life as a civil rights activist, lawyer, and U.S. congressman. No food, but there are free refrigerator magnets from Colorado public television.

Conyers's father was an auto worker and a trade unionist whose union activities cost him jobs. A high school dropout himself, he supported his children's desire to pursue higher education. In the process, "he made me learn that all education is self-education," says Conyers, the second-longest-serving member of the House, and chairman of the House Judiciary Committee.

"Here, today, we meet with a determined effort to stamp out, crush, discourage people from joining the labor movement," he says. "We have invited the head of the voter section [of the Justice Department] to come before the Judiciary Committee to tell us all the safeguards he and his division are going to employ. Just in case the young fellow doesn't come -- we're going to subpoena him so fast!"

Later, surrounded by children he's signing up for his newly created Kids for Obama, Conyers seems confident "Because I've got oversight power over the Department of Justice."

The hour grows late. There are still parties going on somewhere. Sheryl Crow is singing; it's hard not to seek them out. But tomorrow is a working day. Best now to go back to the hotel room, maybe dump out the contents of the tote bag on the bed. Pop a breath mint, squeeze out some hand sanitizer. Grab hold of the emergency radio, put the earbuds in your ears. Lie back, and listen to the comforting sound of silence.

A Part of Hearst Digital Media
Esquire participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites.